Chapter 21 (Asher)
“Let me get this straight,” Preston says, pointing his beer bottle at me. “The guy that you're into not only showed interest in you, he beat up someone for you...and you in turn hooked up with someone else?” He pauses. “Or rather two people.”
“Yes,” I say over the music. “No—I mean—I couldn't do it. As soon as things started heating up between me, Gwen, and Tom...I ran out.”
I also left my phone behind like an idiot. I glance at my watch. Landon should be coming on stage in the next few minutes.
“Yeah but he didn't know that,” Preston says. “No wonder he's been avoiding you and hasn't spoken to you for the last two days.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Now I don't know anything about being attracted to another guy, but I do know what it's like to feel like you got played.”
“I know.” I down the rest of my beer and order another. “I wasn't thinking...I just—”
“What?”
I look at my brother, hoping he can understand without me telling him.
But he doesn't...because no matter how close we are...he has no idea what it's like to be me.
“He's straight.” I look down and frustration claws its way up my throat. “And his girlfriend will be coming back in a few days.”
I take a big swill of my beer in order to wash down the bitterness rising in my throat. “And when she gets back...he's going to choose her. Because she's the easy choice. I'll just be a hookup that he'll either regret or chalk up to some college experiment.” I shrug. “At least by pushing him away now—before anything might happen, I won't have to lose him as a friend.”
He gives my shoulder a squeeze and frowns, until something behind me snags his attention. “Well don't despair, Cinderella. You've caught someone else's eye tonight at the ball. That guy can't keep his eyes off you.”
“It's the tape,” I grumble, not bothering to turn around. “Ever since it went viral I've had more opportunities from guys than I bargained for. It's like I'm wearing a neon sign on my chest that says, 'My dick is an equal opportunity employer. Try your luck.' ”
Preston laughs. “For what it's worth he's not bad looking. I think he may even be a musician given the case he's holding. Might be just the thing to cheer you up.”
I turn my head slightly to see who he's talking about. My eyes fall on some guy wearing leather pants—who just like Preston said—is eyeing me up and down. He smiles at me and looks like he's about to come over, but then a group of guys walk over to him and he starts talking to them instead.
My gaze catches on the guitar case he's holding...and that's when I realize.
I turn back to Preston. “It's the band Landon's auditioning for,” I say, recalling the google search I did.
“Guess this night just got a whole lot more interesting then, because they're headed this way.”
As if on cue, I feel someone's presence behind me. “Pardon me, love. But can I bother you for a fag?”
I spin around and come face to face with the guy wearing leather pants...who apparently has a very thick English accent.
The group of guys behind him laugh hysterically and one of them steps forward. “We keep telling him that's a very different thing in America, but he won't listen,” he says, his accent as thick as his friends'.
“Stop trying to queer my pitch with the bloke,” leather pants says, and my eyes go wide, which only causes them to laugh even harder.
“Don't worry,” one of them says through laughter. “Charlie here is all mouth and no trousers.”
“I don't smoke,” I say and leather pants winks. “Didn't think so. But one can always hope, now can't they, love?”
“Oh, he likes guys,” my brother chimes in, slapping my back. “And this here's the best piece of ass in 50 states.”
I glare at him and he raises his hands. “I'm just trying to help.”
The group of guys' laughter grows even louder. “You two are a riot,” one of them says. “You must let us buy you a round.”
My brother happily agrees and we all make the introductions.
“Do you come to this pub often?” leather pants, or rather, Charlie asks and I shake my head.
“It's my first time. My f—” I pause and subtly tap my brother's leg, hoping he catches on. “I heard there's an amazing musician scheduled to play tonight. Wanted to check him out.”
“Yeah,” my brother says loudly. “Landon's fucking awesome.”
That gets everyone’s attention. “Landon Parker?” one of them questions and I nod.
“We're here to watch him as well,” Charlie says, sidling up beside me. “Bloke's wicked on those ivories, but he's just as good on the guitar.” He scowls and points to his hand. “I have carpal tunnel and I'm scheduled to have surgery in a few months. Unfortunately, we have some gigs that can't be canceled in late December and I need someone to fill in for me.”
I look at the stage. The guy up there now should be finishing any minute. “Sorry to hear that.” I look around at his band members. “But you won't have to worry if you hire Landon. He's phenomenal. He can play anything.”
Including the strings of my heart.
We all clap for the guy on stage before he walks off and Charlie leans in. “I take it you two are mates?”
I nod, silently wishing it was the American term and not the British one.
“We go to the same University. He's my tutor.”
“Ah,” Charlie says. “But you wish he was more.”
I take another swig of my beer. “That obvious?”
“About as obvious as it was that I was chatting you up before.” He stares at me. “Maybe this bloke isn't such a scholar after all. You're absolutely smashing.”
I laugh. “He's straight. And he has a girl—” My words fall from my lips when Landon walks out on stage and the bar full of maybe 150 people go crazy.
I suck in a breath and my heart compresses against my chest. Charlie's saying something to me, but I don't hear a word...because I can't keep my eyes off him.
He gives the crowd of people a smile and waves, looking both relaxed and confident. He's wearing jeans and a simple black tank top that showcases his tattoos, and even with those adorable black-rimmed glasses that he has on, he looks every bit the part of a rock star up there. My blood rushes south and I can't tell if it's because of his sexy appearance, or the way he completely owns the stage.
He scans the crowd and his eyes land on mine. I see his bravado falter for split second, and I can't tell if he's surprised, thankful, or pissed that I'm here.
The lights in the bar dim and the small stage lights turn on, illuminating both him and the stage enough to let me see the way his jaw works as he walks over to the keyboard.
He's obviously ticked off that I'm here...but he's the one who asked me to come in the first place.
He tilts his head and speaks into the microphone. “Hey, everyone. I'm gonna play some original stuff for you in a little, but how about I play a rendition of one of my favorites to start you off?”
Everyone cheers and there's a hint of a smile on his face—one that falls when some haunting and addicting melody fills the room and his expression turns serious.
I faintly recall the song, but it isn't until he starts singing that I recognize it's The Diary of Jane, by Breaking Benjamin.
I'm glad I'm leaning against the bar because when the strong and fluid timbre of his voice permeates the air and he strikes those keys, my knees go weak. But it doesn't even compare to the way my heart hammers like a drum when he looks at me and sings.
He nails every part of the song, and even though he didn't write the lyrics or the music himself, he somehow manages to make it his own.
The utter despair and affliction in his voice makes all the tiny hairs on my body stand on end. Landon's not just giving us a performance right now, he's showing us part of his soul up there...and fuck, if I don't crave it like it's a drug.
When the song ends, I'm speechless and so are the people around me.
“Bloody hell,” Charlie whispers beside me and his band mates nod.
Even Preston who always has something to say about everything is silent, looking floored.
I can't say I'm surprised, though. Landon's fucking magnetic and the energy that flows through him when he's up there is unlike anything I've ever witnessed before. It's downright palpable.
The only thing I can compare it to is when I'm on the field, right before a game and the adrenaline is pumping through my veins.
When he steps away from the keyboard, walks to the front of the stage, and picks up his guitar, a group of girls sigh so loud he laughs into the microphone.
“Any requests?” His tone is coy and flirtatious which causes a bolt of jealousy to shoot through me.
“I'll take my panties off if you play me Glycerine!” Some girl shouts in a drunken slur and everyone in the bar laughs.
My stomach squeezes in protest. It's my favorite song of all time...but there's no way that I can't think about Breslin while hearing it, seeing as it was playing during our first kiss.
It's too late, though, because Landon's already strumming those chords, causing a whirl of emotions to swirl inside me.
I tune him out and pull out my phone instead, concentrating as hard as I can on a stupid game...because the weight that's threatening to crush my chest when I think about her is too much.
I make the mistake of looking up when the song ends and his eyes turn hard. But there must be something in my expression that redeems me, because his eyebrows draw together and his face softens.
The cheering of the crowd brings him back and he takes a sip of water and clears his throat before he speaks into the microphone again, grinning. “So, you guys want to hear that new song I wrote this week?”
Every single person in the bar goes nuts, including the band standing beside me.
“This one is called Complicated Hearts,” he says into the mic before he presses a button on the keyboard and piano music fills the room.
He starts strumming the guitar, and for a fraction of a second, I see Landon's mask slip and his nervousness shows.
I silently prompt him to look at me...because he's got this.
Hell, he was born for this.
I recognize the familiar light rhythm from the night he played this song for me in the studio. It wasn't quite ready, he told me then, but I loved it anyway.
I hold my breath and bite back a smile as the light melody continues filling the air...because I know any moment the beat is going to drop and he's going to bring the goddamn house down.
There's a sly smirk on his face when he does and goosebumps dance along my arms and the back of my neck. He's killing it up there.
When he opens his mouth and starts singing, I'm caught off guard. He told me this song was powerful on its own without lyrics and he was right. However, his raw voice, which is coated with so much emotion and depth...brings it to a whole other level.
I try to ignore the pang in my chest as he continues singing about a girl who's afraid to take the leap with him. It's got a soulful vibe to it, despite it being an alternative rock song; and his rasp laced with tangible longing about a girl who doesn't want him is enough to make me grit my teeth and turn my blood to lava.
I'm about to step outside because I don't know how much more torture I can take—but then there's a key change and he starts signing the next verse, and I realize there's no way I can be annoyed with this song, because my ornery feelings aside, it's fucking epic.
He leans back, strumming those talented fingers of his across his guitar, putting his whole entire body into his performance. The people in the bar eat up every morsel of it and he's feeding off their energy in the exchange—almost like he's siphoning it from them and using it to propel him forward.
Jesus—Landon on stage is like watching an asteroid explode into a thousand spellbinding fragments. He comes alive in a way I've never seen someone before.
He closes his eyes and taps his foot, getting lost in the music and bringing us all along for the journey with him.
When he opens his eyes again, they lock with mine. His stare is angry and all-consuming, commanding me to listen to him. The desire and craving in his raspy voice is even more intense now, penetrating me all the way down to my toes.
I focus on the lyrics again and my heart speeds up and my insides twist as I listen.
She captivates me.
Frustrates me.
And you, you fascinate me.
Complicate me.
My breath catches, his words soaking into my skin and rooting me to the spot—even after it ends and he takes a small bow and walks off stage.
“We have to hire him,” one of the band mates says, zapping me back to the present.
The rest of the guys nod in agreement. Beside me, Charlie bristles and grunts out a, “Yeah.”
It doesn't take a genius to figure out that a small part of him is threatened by Landon taking over for him in a few months.
I open my mouth, unsure of what to say, but then Landon comes up to me, or rather the band, and says hello.
“Damn,” my brother tells me. “You weren't kidding when you said he was talented.”
“I know,” I say as I see the band members shake his hand in my peripheral vision.
One of them orders Landon a drink in celebration and he takes it, refusing to look at me.
I'll admit...it fucking hurts. He could have at least thanked me for coming. Or at least have the decency to tell me he doesn't want me here and to get the hell out.
“Hey,” Charlie whispers into my ear. “Step outside with me for a second.”
I give Landon one last look—a look that he doesn't exchange—before I follow Charlie's lead.
My brother looks like he's about to say something, but the look I shoot him causes him to stay silent.
There's no reason for Landon to be acting like such an asshole to me right now. I've done nothing wrong...he's made it perfectly clear since day one where he stands.
My heart pulls and I mutter a curse...because I realize that I'm a fucking idiot.
He's not pissed about another guy picking up my phone, he probably couldn't care less—he's pissed because he thinks I'm going to fuck up his chance with the band.
When we step outside and Charlie lights a cigarette, I decide to excuse myself.
“Sorry, I forgot my phone at the bar.” I turn, intending to run back inside and grab Landon to explain things to him, but I can't, because I'm being shoved against a brick wall.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarl, getting ready to knock Charlie's lights out.
He leans in and whispers, “Helping you out,” at the same time a familiar voice growls, “Jesus Christ, Asher. Is there anyone you won't try and stick your dick in?”
I shove Charlie off me. “This isn't what—”
Landon's gaze ping pongs between us before his eyes focus on me. His stare has so much disgust behind it, I reel back as if kicked in the nuts.
He scoffs, pulls his keys out of his pocket, and starts walking to his car. I start to follow him, but Charlie yanks me back. “You chase him now, you'll ruin your chance.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” I snap, shoving him away. “You just cost me a friendship with him.”
My heart thumps painfully against my rib cage—I lost another person I care about.
I hear Charlie mumble something about it being clear that I want more than friendship, but I'm too busy throwing the door open and scanning the bar for my brother.
I'm so on edge, I all but snatch Preston's collar when I walk up to him. “I need you to drive me to Landon's. Now.”
The talk amongst the members of the band that he was chatting with comes to a halt and Preston nods without question.
The drive to Landon's apartment is taking too long and I close my eyes, fighting thoughts of Breslin the entire time.
Because it always comes back to her. It always will.
She fucked me up when she left me. More than that, she scarred me for life with her abandonment. And as much as I love her...a little part of me can't help but hate her for doing that to me.
I grab the door handle, anger coursing through my limbs. I'm like a bomb ready to detonate. Everything over the last few months, hell years, is rumbling in my chest, threatening to spill out.
My brother rambles on and on about his stupid girlfriend Becca and how he thinks he found a nice apartment for them to live it and I fucking lose it.
“Shut up!” I bark so loud the windows rattle. “It's not about you right now, Preston.”
He looks at me like I've gone insane. “I was trying to distract you, you prick.”
“What?”
“I was trying to keep your mind off her so you don't blow things with him.”
“I have no idea—”
He laughs to himself. “That's just it. You have no idea. You have no idea how you continue sabotaging your life over something that happened years ago.”
“I'm not sabotaging anything,” I say defensively. “And even if I was, it's only because Kyle—”
He pins me with a stare. “Forget the Kyle bullshit, Asher. You're stuck in the spin cycle of Breslin and you push everyone away and never let anyone in. It's not healthy, man.”
“I—” My words fall when we pull up to the back of the apartment complex and I see Landon jog up the outside steps.
Lightning flashes through the sky, due to the heat in the air. I go to get out of the car but Preston grabs my arm. “Does he make you happy?”
When I nod he says, “Then don't let her get in the way. Because you deserve to be happy again, Asher.”
If only it were that simple.
If only he wanted me the way I want him.
If only part of my heart didn't still belong to her.